


Rising Monstars

by Mutie (mutietootie)



Series: MTT's Adventures Above Ground [1]
Category: Undertale
Genre: Gen, One Shot, Post-Pacifist Route, kinda about the aftereffects of all the monsters coming up to the above ground, yaaay backstory for metta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:32:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5094257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mutietootie/pseuds/Mutie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After returning from the band's world tour, and settling in on the above-ground, Mettaton is invited to star in an episode of a human talk-show.<br/>Napstablook promises to watch, no matter what the outcome is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rising Monstars

**Author's Note:**

> HI I DUNNO WHAT IM DOING THIS CAME TO ME WHILE I WAS IN THE SHOWER  
> IM VERY TIRED I TRIED MY BEST ITS THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS IM A METTATON FUCKER PLZ HELP ME  
> VIEWS ARE CHANGED BY DOUBLE BREAKS K  
> (yo did anyone notice that pronoun mistake in the first paragraph? oops)

At 6:30 EST, the television switched on, and a ghostly figure floated over to sit on the little throw rug set the perfect distance away from the screen, headphones around their neck, and a bowl of popcorn at their side. The final commercial ended, and the show began.

 

“Good morning, Ladies, Gentlemen, and Monsters alike, I’m Angela Sariel, and welcome to Monstars Daily. With us today is one of the biggest stars of the underground, with  rising popularity up here to boot, please welcome, Mettaton!”

And out he came, stage right, shiny and new and pink as could be. He was waving to the audience as they screamed for him, blowing kisses and grinning with that cat-mouth of his at the sight of his fanbase, full of humans and monsters alike.

 

He was nervous, though. Napstablook could see that, even through the TV. He always had this little twitch to the corners of his mouth when he was overexcited, and, as they knew, with overexcitement came panic and self-consciousness. It was a family trait, after all.

Napstablook is glad he got over the nail-biting. Or, well, they hope he did. There’s no telling what his nails look like under those gloves.

They hunker down further on the floor, and resume watching the interview.

 

The audience has quieted at this point, and Mettaton sits perched on the edge of the chaise lounge, legs crossed and knee bouncing, but still with a huge, wavering, smile.

The human across from him, blonde and pretty, with laughter lines hidden under makeup, leaned forward to rest her chin in her hands, elbows on the desk in front of her, and inquired to him. “So, Mettaton-”

“Actually,” He interrupts softly, still getting his bearings. It relieves no existing snootiness in his words, however. “It’s Mettaton EX, darling. Mettaton is the box.”

A chuckle from the audience.

A chuckle from the hostess as well.

Mettaton’s shoulders straightened slightly. He looked a bit more proud.

The woman continued. “Mettaton EX,” she said with a wink, “first off- welcome to our show, it’s your first talk show appearance, right?”

“Yes, or, well-” he cleared his throat, “This is my first experience being the interviewee, I’ve interviewed before, in the Underground. But this is most certainly the first I’ve been on above ground.” His voice, robotic as it is, was the slightest bit shaky.

“Ah, your first appearance for humans, I see. And with the success of your world tour, it most certainly won’t be your last. Well, anyway, we’re glad to have you.”

“And I’m glad to be here, sweetie.” He shoots her a grandiose show smile.

 

Napstablook isn’t surprised he could muster it up, despite his demeanor. It’s what years of practicing in a mirror had come to. And, nervousness and all, they know he means his words.

 

The hostess continued. “So, tell us about yourself. You’re a full automaton, correct?”

“I am a big bucket of bolts, yes.”

“Interesting, so your personality is entirely artificial?”

Mettaton stilled where he sat, smile slipping from his face. “...Artificial?”

 

“Artificial?” Napstablook repeated. Mettaton was anything but artificial. Sure, he had a few fake smiles and the whole plan with that scientist, but his passion was still the same as when they had knew him as a babyblook. To call it fake… to call their cousin fake… was something that hurt Napstablook deeply.

 

He turned away from her, and the cameras found his expression. His mouth was small, and what was seen of his eyes were large and sharp. “...My personality is all mine, thank you.”

“Of course it is, sweetheart.” The woman chuckled, playing it off entirely. “Wow, an AI system with this much emotion must’ve take a helluva lot of work to create. Mettaton, might I ask who created you?”

He perked up at the last question, the words before it flying over his head, unrecognized. Alphys was someone dear to him, for giving him this body, this opportunity, this lifestyle, and this happiness to be himself, along with her friendship. A proud grin fell upon his lips, with no quiver in sight. “The royal scientist, of course!” He exclaimed, eyes bright and shining. “Angela, listen. Alphys is absolutely fantastic, brilliant even! She’s an absolute doll, even if she’s a bit hard to stand sometimes.” He giggled. “We bicker a bit, and I pick on her some, sometimes a bit too much, but I think she understands that I’m just poking fun. It’s what we do, darling.”

 

Napstablook gave a little smile. It was nice seeing Mettaton talking happily, with no worries or anxieties. They wonder if they could be like that someday. Maybe they’ll ask him for some tips on self-confidence when he gets comes home, since it seems he got his back.

But, something struck them. Something in what the woman said…

 

The hostess motioned for him to go on, and Mettaton couldn’t be happier. “Oh, how grateful am I to have met Alphys. We collaborated on my body’s design, you know. It couldn’t be too detailed, it would be too delicate that way. But that didn’t matter to me, a plain body was better than no body at all. I waited weeks, then months for her to put on the finishing touches. And on the day she called me in for it, oh honey, when I first saw it, I was astonished. A tangible body, shiny, silver, blocky, and plain, it was essentially a cube with legs, darling. It was absolutely divine, something of a godsend, hell, she was something of a godsend. I was so dazzled by it, so blown away, that when she put me under, even after the serious warning that she wasn’t sure the soul extraction would work and that I might not ever wake again, I...” He took in a breath, obviously for dramatic effect, neither robots nor ghosts breathe; before putting on an expression that could only be described as a steely version of tranquil. “I was happy. Happy to just have that little chance of being who I desperately wanted to be. Happy to have something made just for me, happy to have a friend who put the time and effort to make something for me to be happy in, even if I was just another test subject in the long run.” He stopped to chuckle awkwardly.

“But when I actually opened my eyes, or, well, Mettaton’s eyes, after weeks of laying there on a lab bench, unmoving, and saw Alphys running around with her nose in one of those shitty- Oh! Excuse my language, I wouldn’t want those ratings to drop- silly human comic books, and felt the table under me for the first time in my life, I-” He took a moment to laugh and will away the giggles, “I cried, and short circuited myself. Thank goodness Alphys was close by when it happened, I managed to escape with no lasting damage. Why she put tear features into a robot, much less a robot without eyes, I never really understood, but, admittedly, I am thankful to her for that little gesture. To think, that I, just a little old snail farm boy with a dream of being famous and going to where the humans were, became the first robot with a soul. It’s astonishing, sweetheart. It really is.”

Mettaton rested his chin in the palm of his hand and mumbled to himself. “That little tidbit of memory always makes me think of my cousin, actually. I was never much of a crier in my past form.”

 

Napstablook wanted to cry. They wanted to, so badly, but, for one of the very few times in their life, they did not.

 

When Mettaton finally raised his head, the audience, the cameramen, the woman behind the desk, were all staring at him, dead silent.

He could hear the vending machine backstage whirring.

He kind of wanted to talk to it.

But, just then, a resonating sound echoed from the back of the room. It went once, twice, four times, then another set of noises joined in, then another, then five more, and another went off very close to him. Soon enough, the entire room was a roar of applause, with cheering, screaming fans and the hostess’s slight sniffles.

Mettaton froze. Why were they cheering? This wasn’t a performance or anything, he had just laid his claim to fame out in front of them, it was something to just be satisfied over, if anything. Maybe put in his Wikipedia article.

The woman abruptly stood behind her desk, knocking her knees on the tabletop without a wince. “Ladies, Gentlemen, and Monsters alike, an amazing performance by Mettaton! That’s artificial intelligence for you, aha! And a hearty congratulations to Miss Scientist out there for coming up with such a backstory for her robot. Excellent, Mettaton, excellent!”

And Mettaton was dumbfounded.

 

When the room quieted, and the cameras were back on them, she fell back into her chair with a breath and a handkerchief soaking up her running mascara. “What a fantastic act, Mettaton, I, no, we all must have believed you for a moment there.”

The audience cheered their agreement.

“...Thank you…?” Mettaton still had no idea what the fuck- oops, ratings- heck just happened. Artificial intelligence? No, this was real intelligence, Mettaton-ian intelligence, Hapstablook-ian intelligence. What the hell was going on here?!

“Oh, to think,” her voice interrupted his thoughts. He whipped his head to look her in the eyes. “That a monster could successfully attach a living soul to a machine body, how creative.” Her eyebrows lowered in sympathy. “You, poor, delusional, robot. Now, on to the next question- Any new songs lined up for us?”

 

 

 

When the cousins next met, it was when Mettaton opened the door to their little surface world home, dropped his bag, screamed a hello to Shyren, slammed the door behind him, and collapsed on the floor.

Napstablook floated up from their spot in front of the television, and found their way to their cousin, who was still face-down in the entryway, boots still on. “How was it, Metta?”

“Blooky, I don’t know what to say.” His words were muffled by the carpet. “They totally blew off every truth I told them. Angela only used the EX once!” He jerked up his hand and held out one finger before yelling into the floor, “ONCE!!”

“I know, I counted.”

“You watched? You saw me make a fool of myself in front of every human alive?”

“...Yeah, unless you didn’t want me to. Then I’ll forget it, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I’m glad you did. It’ll be nice to have a second opinion on some things.” Mettaton stopped his diva tantrum to roll his head to the side and face his cousin. “Even if you probably watched the butchered version. The media today is insane, Blooky. From now on, just watch shows with me in them.”

“Okay… I’ll try.”

“Good. Now tell me, why doesn’t anyone listen to me?”

Napstablook floated down to something of a sitting position. “Well, um. I think they’re just a little spooked, maybe, I don’t know.”

Mettaton glared at them from under his bangs, eyebrows scrunched. “Ghost joke aside, ha-ha by the way, what do you mean by ‘spooked’?”

They pondered a moment, thinking of how to word their thoughts. “We’re new, I guess. Monsters and people who lived in the Underground, that is. Like you and me and Shyren. Some of the humans might still be scared of us. So, um, they might be denying the fact that monsters and humans are going to coexist now, and placing themselves in a superior position? Maybe? You heard how they said Alphys couldn’t have put your soul into a robot, right? That might be how they’re pushing her down, and you too. And all of us, really. Ignoring what we have to say and just hearing what they want to hear.”

“But they like me, don’t they? They like us as a band, so they can’t think so lowly of all monsters. Hell, there were a ton in the audience today!”

Napstablook bit his lip as best he could. “Well, um, I think, maybe, they are okay with us because you’re here? Since you’re kind of different from the rest of us monsters, closer to a concept that humans have, robots with artificial intelligence, they think that you fall in the ‘okay’ territory, and you act as a bit of a bridge between the groups. Maybe you were the only reason that the humans let the monsters on set, because you made them feel better about it, since you’re the neutralizer. Once you start asserting yourself as a monster too, they probably might not like you as much, and the divider will be up again ”

Mettaton had sat up during this spiel, and was now staring at them with wide eyes.

Napstablook lowered their head. “But that’s just my opinion so…”

“...When did you get so savvy with humanity’s thoughts?”

“I still go on the music forums, and sometimes I get sidetracked… Sorry.”

Mettaton moved his eyes away from his cousin’s, and shook his head. “Don’t be. You might have learned something useful.”

“Thanks…” They murmured.

The two sat in silence for a while, still in the doorway. Through the halls, they could hear Shyren humming lyrics to a popular human song, most certainly heard from the radio in her room.

After a few minutes of listening, Shyren stopped.

At that moment, Mettaton put his arm as close as he could to being around Napstablook’s supposed-shoulders, and said “You’re pretty smart, Blooky. If you can get that self-confidence up, maybe you can be a public speaker.”

“Oh no, never.”

“...How about writing an advice column? You’d like the anonymity.”

“No, thank you. My advice isn’t that great.”

“...”

“...”

“...” Awkward silence.

“...”

“...”

“...” Neither of them had anything to say.

“...”

“...”

“...” Shyren started singing again. This time, something soft, but solemn.

“...”

Mettaton knocked his head back into the wall behind him, and let out a sigh.“...So if this… whole thing… falls apart, what are we going to do?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Do you think we can go back Underground? Start up the snail farm again?”

“...Maybe.”

“...”

“But, we’re going to make it.”

“... You think so?”

“Yeah. It’s your dream, isn’t it? You left home for it, you struggled for it, you wreaked havoc because of it, so you’re going to pursue it.”

“...Blooky, take some of that confidence and use it for yourself, okay?”

“No, you need it more.”

Mettaton laughs, not in a joyful laugh, not in a stage laugh, but something just tinged with sadness. He falls to the floor to lay there, just in front of Napstablook, and relaxes.

“Blooky, I’ll be a hit for you. I’ll be a hit for everyone. I’ll be so popular, that humans will forget all this horrendous stigma surrounding monsters and everyone can live in peace and harmony.”

“...An entertainer wouldn’t make such corny promises.”

Mettaton barks out a laugh, and goes quiet.

“...Don’t short circuit yourself out, I’m not too good with repair-work.”

“...I think I will. Be a doll and call Alphys for me?”

“...’Kay.”

“Oh, and one more thing.”

“...?”

“How did my legs look on the big screen?”

“...I think Shyren drooled a bit."

And Mettaton laughs, and laughs, and laughs, and he still doesn’t know why Alphys installed those tear features.

But he’s thankful for it.


End file.
